Too young to understand it, old enough to live with it: trafficked youth and STI's
“I don’t want to do this activity anymore... I’ve been meaning to tell you that I’ve been losing feeling in my legs, and riding these go-karts is hurting.”
We were at K1 Speed, racing go-karts, when *Aniyah casually mentioned she’d been losing feeling in her legs. Her vision had also been coming and going. I told her that if it happened again, she needed to call me or go straight to the ER.
I didn’t expect that call to come just a week later. She couldn’t get out of bed. She couldn’t move her legs. I called the paramedics, and we rushed her to the emergency room. That day changed everything. Doctors discovered Aniyah’s kidneys were failing due to an untreated infection. She had tested positive for HIV. We had no idea how long she had been living with it. That moment marked the beginning of a different kind of advocacy.
As I began to search for more information, trying to understand the links between trafficking, sexual abuse, and sexually transmitted infections (STIs) in youth, I quickly became discouraged, not by what I found, but by what I didn’t.
There is no large-scale, published report that focuses specifically on STI rates among trafficked or sexually abused youth in the U.S. The lack of data isn’t because the problem isn’t real. It’s due to underreporting, fear of disclosure, and healthcare systems that often fail to distinguish trafficking from other forms of sexual abuse. The limited data that does exist is often buried within broader studies on youth homelessness or child maltreatment.
So, I reached out to one of our incredible partners, Sandra Onyi, a Pediatric Nurse Practitioner at the REACH Clinic at Children’s Medical Center in Dallas. REACH is a trauma-informed program that serves high-risk youth. Sandra shared data collected from January 1, 2021, to January 21, 2025.
At REACH, among 1,172 youth ages 11 and older:
89 tested positive for chlamydia
51 tested positive for gonorrhea
22 tested positive for trichomoniasis
Hospital-wide (including ER and other departments):
262 chlamydia positives out of 3,105 tests
147 for gonorrhea
84 for trichomoniasis
Among children under 11 at REACH:
3 tested positive for chlamydia
5 for gonorrhea
Hospital-wide, among children under 11:
3 tested positive for trichomoniasis
Even among the youngest, there were clear signs of trauma. Trauma no child should ever experience.
But these numbers are more than statistics. They are signals. They are stories. They are proof of children who weren’t protected. Children who were violated. Children who slipped through the hands of adults and systems meant to keep them safe.
What these numbers don’t show is the aftermath. They don’t show the confusion and fear that a young person feels when they're told they’ve tested positive for something they don’t understand. They don’t show the trauma of sitting through a SANE (Sexual Assault Nurse Examiner) exam, only to later hear they have gonorrhea, chlamydia, or trichomoniasis.
What happens next is just as important. Many youth run away shortly after the exam, leaving before they can begin treatment. Even when medication is prescribed, many never get the chance to take it. For those still being sexually abused, their bodies continue to be used by others, never given the opportunity to rest, recover, or heal. The shame and guilt these youth carry are often heavier than the diagnosis itself. They begin to believe they are broken, dirty, unworthy. They internalize the lie that they are to blame.
As advocates, we do everything we can to speak life and truth into those lies. But the reality is layered and complex. We hold space for safety and healing while also having hard conversations. Conversations about chronic illness, legal obligations to disclose diagnoses, and the importance of caring for a body that has already endured far too much.
Aniyah’s healing journey was long. Many of our visits focused on the basics. How to access public transportation. How to use Medicaid transport when her caregiver wasn’t available. We talked about her body. What symptoms to watch for. What side effects to expect. How to advocate for her own care. We worked through the stigma, slowly dismantling the belief that she was less because of her diagnosis. And some days, we didn’t talk about HIV at all. We just spent time together. Being human.
Watching Aniyah grow into someone who is attuned to her body and its needs has been one of the most beautiful journeys I’ve had the privilege of witnessing. I’m so grateful to say her kidneys have recovered. She is now undetectable. A powerful milestone.
But that doesn’t erase the truth. She is still living with a diagnosis she never asked for. The result of someone else’s abuse. Someone else’s disregard for her autonomy and humanity. This is the reality we rarely talk about. These are the numbers we don’t see. And these are the kids who deserve more than silence. Every number is a name. Every diagnosis is a story. Advocacy doesn’t end in the exam room. It continues in how we educate. How we speak. How we hold systems accountable.
As I close, I’m met again with the unease of the phrase “life sentence.” We rejoice when a perpetrator receives a life sentence in court. But we grieve the youth who receive their own kind of sentence. Living with the lifelong impact of someone else’s violence. And still, even in that heaviness, there is hope.
*To preserve and protect the identities and dignity of the young people we serve, Traffick911 may substitute certain details and will always utilize pseudonyms.